


normal hearts

by sorrymom



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, exes to homeowners, multichap, obligatory vampire fic, strangers to not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26502469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrymom/pseuds/sorrymom
Summary: Sana sighs. “I take it you didn’t like your little present.”This had been one of Sana’s earliest habits when she was turned— dragging half-drained girls back to the mansion, laying them out in front of Nayeon’s locked door like a stray cat leaves a broken bird.It was kind of sweet, in that way Sana would twist a smile in her teeth and it would be fanged and pretty all at the same brilliant moment.
Relationships: Im Nayeon/Minatozaki Sana, Im Nayeon/Myoui Mina, poly perhaps, sidelined datzu
Comments: 13
Kudos: 154





	normal hearts

**Author's Note:**

> M for...well. there's a teensy bit of violence and a teensy bit of people who want to bang each other

It had rained all day. 

Usually Nayeon slept through all the stupid business of daylight, those useless hours. But the thunderstorm was too loud, the thoughts too fast, the hunger too piercing. Her chest was starting to cramp, each pang an icepick swung in a vicious arc against her ribs. 

But a vampire’s most common hobby is self-discipline, so she watched the clock and waited for the sick light of the thunderstorm to finally darken against her terminally-closed curtains. 

Even then, it’s not completely safe. She keeps an ear pressed against the seam of her door and its frame, waiting for any noises that would indicate her roommate is awake. 

Lots of people— well, Dahyun and Tzuyu— have questioned why Nayeon would want to live with a human and not another vampire. And Nayeon has, as patiently as possible, explained again and again that

1\. humans naturally operate on the opposite of her schedule, so she never has to see them  
2\. in the case of starvation there is an extremely easy meal available  
3\. Sana didn’t work out that well

And this human, whoever she is, is perfect. 

Nayeon has never seen her, never heard anything louder than the microwave beep every night around dinnertime. The bathroom is always pristine, the electric bill always paid, and she never forgets to lock the door. 

Just as her ear is starting to get a little sore from being mashed against the door, her phone trills in her back pocket. 

‘Roomate’ texts _won’t be back until late tonight, just btw_

Nayeon types out a giddy, hunger-blurred _i love you_ before backspacing into a _cool, i’ll be out too:-)_

^^^

Nayeon doesn’t like the hospital for a handful of reasons. The fluorescent lighting. How slow the elevators are. That faint, sour smell of human sickness on every goddamn thing. 

Luckily, tonight, she’s shown up late enough that Jeongyeon is meeting her in the almost vacant parking garage instead of the pediatric ward staircase where they typically cower. 

The doctor is leaning against her car, hair frazzled out of its bun, shoulders sagging after a sixteen-hour shift. Nayeon decides not to sneak up on her, like she usually does, out of some sliver of sympathy. 

“Finally,” Jeongyeon huffs, though she seems more relieved that Nayeon showed than annoyed at the tardiness. 

“Cute scrubs.” 

Jeongyeon shifts uncomfortably, trying to cross her arms to hide some of the garrish Pokemon ball pattern. “It was a gift.” 

“Someone special?” Nayeon waggles her eyebrows for the full effect. 

“If you wanted to banter you should have shown up on time.” 

Nayeon grins in triumph. It’s definitely not a gift. 

Jeongyeon opens her trunk to pull out a cloth freezer tote and unzips it to show the bags of blood. “A, B, I even swiped a few O’s.”

“Negative?” Nayeon asks hopefully as she takes the tote, tucking the strap up over her shoulder. Her mouth is already watering. She let herself go a bit too long without this month. The thirst is like a lightning strike that grips her guts, but she hasn’t reached the fever stage so it isn’t the time for dramatics or for killing Jeongyeon if she answers this question wrong. 

“Just one. As a treat.” 

“How do I ever repay you?” Nayeon drawls dramatically, just as she pulls out her wallet, layering bill after bill into the doctor’s outstretched hand. 

Jeongyeon, always so annoyingly diligent, makes a show of counting the money. “You gave me an extra fifty.”

Nayeon can’t resist a smirk. “Buy yourself something nice. And maybe a little more age-appropriate.” 

Jeongyeon just rolls her eyes and opens her car door, plopping down in the seat with a relieved sigh. “I’m so fucking tired.” There’s no bite in her tone. Just exhausted honesty. 

It was stupid, but Nayeon had kind of been praying Jeongyeon wouldn’t be this obviously worn out. Sometimes she was able to convince the doctor to go get a quick drink in one of the shadowy dive bars, listen to her list off complaints about co-workers and patients. 

They had a weird friendship— tied up with suspicious grocery bag exchanges and wads of cash and threats of malpractice lawsuits— but it was nice. 

“Are you, uh, busy this weekend?” 

There’s a flicker of sympathy in Jeongyeon’s brown eyes, and Nayeon is both too proud to be pitied and too lonely to care. “I’m not sure. It’s soccer season so the pediatric ward is—”

“I get it,” Nayeon interrupts, offering a smile that neither of them believe in. “I’ll just text you when I’m running low.” 

Jeongyeon looks like she wants to say something more but, as usual, decides against it, nodding curtly and shutting her car door. When the engine starts to hum, Nayeon makes her way down the slope of the garage. 

The ritual of picking up blood from Jeongyeon always makes Nayeon a little bit introspective and, as such, annoyed with herself. After a century, she really shouldn’t feel this streak of guilt. She isn’t even one of the really bad ones. She hasn’t fed off a human in a decade— not that long, in the grand scheme of things, but still an accomplishment— she hasn’t killed anyone in a long time. She’s only ever turned one person, and she’s been paying for that mistake for nearly fifty years. She’s essentially good, she knows, by the low standards set for vampires. But that doesn’t mean she likes it. That doesn’t mean it’s enough.

Stress mounting, Nayeon unzips the freezer tote and fishes out the O negative bag. She’s sure that the cameras in the parking garage are just for show. She bites into the corner of the bag and begins to pull the chilled blood into her mouth. The pleasure is almost instant, soothing down her throat to her stomach, then to the edge of every limb. 

She tosses the empty bag into a recycling bin and smacks her lips happily. Sometimes it’s nice to get thirsty. The blood always tastes so much better when you’re desperate. 

A breeze lifts through the parking garage, a brief freedom from the late summer night’s humidity. Nayeon tries to relax into it, to appreciate it, and she smiles when she smells the blood. Real blood. Not like what’s in the tote over her shoulder. Hot, living, panicking blood. 

Nayeon’s fangs prick against her tongue on instinct. She scans the parking garage entrance, the sidewalks. A street lamp flickers weakly. A whimper from the flowerbed. 

There, in the violets, is a girl. Her face is unnaturally pale, eyes open but dull. Her neck is shining. Blood always looks black in moonlight. 

Nayeon bites her tongue. The girl smells beautiful. 

She doesn’t flinch when Nayeon steps over her and roughly presses to find her pulse. It’s there. Rapid even in its weakness, but still. At least it’s there. 

“I’m sorry,” the girl whispers beneath her, eyes looking past Nayeon— not at anyone, just unable to focus. She’s as pale as a candlestick. 

The blood bag had managed to peel off only a fraction of Nayeon’s hunger, but it was enough for her to keep her body from jolting forward and feeding like an amoral hyena. Plus, Nayeon reasons, as she purposefully begins to breathe only through her mouth, they are at the hospital. It’s maybe a one-minute walk into the ER. 

“It’s okay, I’m going to take you to the emergency room.” Nayeon crouches down, carefully fitting one arm under the girl’s knees and the other around her shoulders. Before she can pick her up, however, the girl shudders. Her head turns and Nayeon sees the two perfect pinpricks in her neck. Just below her pulsing artery. 

The girl’s eyelids flutter.

“Oh fuck.” 

It takes a little too long to find Jeongyeon’s number — Nayeon always forgets which configuration of emojis she has the doctor saved under, which is partly a way to prevent herself from impulse requesting too much blood — but she’s sent straight to voicemail twice in a row. Going to the emergency room is definitely not an option. Unfortunately, there’s only one other person she knows in this city with a car. 

Nayeon rips a strip of her shirtsleeve off, as she saw someone do in a movie once, and wraps it around the girl’s neck. That has to help, somehow. She also helps the girl sit up, trying to keep her conscious by occasionally poking her in the side. The girl keeps offering weak smiles and vague apologies and Nayeon wants to bite through her neck more than she’s wanted anything in a long time. 

“Pick the fuck up,” she snarls at her phone, balancing it against her knee as she taps the girl’s shoulder. Those dark eyes focus on hers, for a second, and then drift off again. “I swear to God—”

“Yellow,” a voice chirps over the speaker. 

“Dahyun I need you to come to the hospital right now.” 

“We’re on a date.”

“Well I have something that’s more important,” Nayeon barks. She’s a bit too pissed, a bit too thirsty, to try and actually charm them. 

“But we—”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Tzuyu cuts in softly. 

“Great. Bye.” Nayeon hangs up. She’ll apologize to them later. If she remembers. “Fucking fantastic.”

The girl whimpers beneath her.

“It’s going to be okay.” Nayeon’s voice is suddenly soft. As if it’s natural. “People are coming to help you.” 

“Sorry,” the girl hiccups again. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I just need to keep you conscious so... let’s have a conversation.” 

The girl blinks slowly. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Nayeon can’t help but smile. “I’m Nayeon.”

“I’m Mina.” She lifts a limp hand, and when her fingers close around Nayeon’s the grip is weak. She’s clammy, shaking and sweating, and also so pretty. 

Nayeon knows that’s just her instincts talking. It’s the same as how a lion’s eye can always find the antelopes with faulty hips. An attraction to weakness is maybe one of the worst things about herself. 

She glances over her shoulder. The parking garage and sidewalks are still vacant. It’s too late for anyone to be out. 

Maybe it would be best to just do this the easy way: carry the girl to the automatic doors of the ER, drop her on the mat, and let the doctors puzzle over what hurt her. And then pray, for the next few weeks, that there weren’t any conspiracy theorists on the nursing staff who spent their school years getting papercuts on Twilight novels. 

“She didn’t mean to hurt me.” Mina brushes Nayeon’s wrist gently. Gentle is all she’s capable of. 

Nayeon grits her teeth. Whatever vampire did this was a total fucking idiot. Dumping a drained girl at a hospital was stupid. They should have just finished the— 

“She didn’t mean to,” Mina whispers again, her eyes the most bright they had been since Nayeon had found her. 

“Okay,” Nayeon says. She tries to think of a more neutral conversation topic. “Do you watch any dramas?”

“Not really.”

“But television. Right? That’s popular these days.”

Mina smiles. Or what could be a smile, if her muscles weren’t nearly slack. “I like Sailor Moon.” 

Nayeon brings a hand up to hold the strip of her shirt against Mina’s wound, suddenly remembering that it’s best to keep pressure. She’s never been in the business of stopping blood before. 

“There’s actually a character named Mina,” she continues. “There’s this power she has. I can do the move. It’s called —” She hiccups weakly. “It’s called Venus Love and Beauty Shock.” 

Nayeon does not want this girl to die.

“Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes.”

Mina sighs. “She wants to be an idol.” 

“I like to go to karaoke.” That’s one of Nayeon’s secrets. For no real reason other than keeping some things to herself. 

“Nayeon,” Mina whispers. 

“You’re going to be okay.”

Nayeon repeats this until Dahyun’s Jeep burns through the street.

^^^

“Can’t you drive faster,” Nayeon barks as Dahyun gently slows to a driver’s ed instructor’s wet dream of a stop. 

“It would be worse if we got pulled over,” she defends. 

The girl— Mina— is slumped in the backseat between Nayeon and Tzuyu. They’re maybe five minutes from Jeongyeon’s apartment. Nayeon has texted a warning ( _“there’s a girl with vampire bites [not mine!] bleeding out i’m bringing her over drink coffee”_ ) and received a simple “omfg” which is the same as “okay.” 

“So we’re finally meeting the doctor,” Dahyun teases, trying to lighten the mood in a way that Nayeon cannot appreciate right now. 

“Lower your expectations,” Nayeon warns. 

The next minute passes in near silence. Mina whispers a few apologies, her grip around Nayeon’s hand fading fast. Anxiety is like a fourth passenger in the cramped Jeep — Nayeon is staring out the window with her jaw clenched, Tzuyu has brought the collar of her shirt up around her nose to avoid the smell of blood, and Dahyun’s fingers drum restlessly on the steering wheel. 

They pull up to Jeongyeon’s high-rise and Dahyun immediately pops out to scout for cameras. 

Mina whimpers as Nayeon fusses with the seatbelt. Her blood has soaked through the shirt and now drips down, a red tear over her collarbone, and then down past the collar, and— 

“We’re all good,” Dahyun whisper-shouts from outside.

^^^

Nayeon feels immediately out of place, holding a now unconscious, bleeding girl in the living room of Jeongyeon’s psychopathically clean apartment. 

“Do you all need to be here,” Jeongyeon huffs. Nayeon is just delighted that (a) she’s awake and (b) she’s in Pokemon pajamas. 

“I’m her ride,” Dahyun says, shamelessly bright.

“She’s my ride,” Tzuyu mumbles, hovering behind her girlfriend. 

“I didn’t know you had friends.” Jeongyeon lays a sheet down over her couch, then helps Nayeon lower Mina to an upright position on it. 

“This is shitty bedside manner.”

“Are you the patient?” 

Everyone is miraculously quiet as Jeongyeon jogs around the apartment, collecting a frankly disturbing amount of medical equipment from her kitchen drawers. 

Jeongyeon mutters to herself rapidly. She’s completely zeroed in, ignoring both Dahyun’s ooh’s and aah’s and Nayeon’s frequent jabs. It’s almost impressive. “I can do a manual transfusion but — oh! You have O negative, right?” 

Nayeon takes sudden interest in the very beige carpet of Jeongyeon’s apartment. 

“You already drank it..” 

“You said it was a treat,” Nayeon whines. 

Mina’s begins to shake, her skin shining with sweat. Her eyes are open, though, which Nayeon assumes is a decent sign. 

“Hi.” The tone of Jeongyeon’s voice changes, instantly gentle. “I’m trying to help you. Do you know your bloodtype?”

Mina shudders. 

“Okay,” Jeongyeon says, offering a smile. Then, matter-of-factly, “Nayeon. You need to taste her.”

“I can’t,” Nayeon replies instinctually. “I won’t.”

“Well,” Jeongyeon huffs, “can either of you identify bloodtypes?” 

Tzuyu simply shakes her head no. 

“Despite many harmful stereotypes I’m not a vampire.” Dahyun answers, always the spokeswoman.

On the couch, Mina hiccups. 

Nayeon’s throat constricts. In dread maybe. Or excitement. 

“It’s okay, unnie,” Tzuyu whispers. “I can stop you.” 

Nayeon sincerely doubts the other woman can. It’s been a century since Nayeon has tasted warm, living blood. She had to quit because of the rages it would bring on— some combination of self-hatred and absolute, ripcord joy. The century of sobriety doesn’t mean Nayeon has overcome the problem, just distracted herself from it.

“Nayeon, if you can’t do it we need to call an ambulance right now.” Jeongyeon’s tone is stern. 

Nayeon takes a deep breath and leans forward. She can hear the collective step that Dahyun and Tzuyu take too, ready to— what? If she freaks out, they need to kill her. She’s told them that before. 

“It’s okay,” Mina slurs. “I’m going to show you the Love and Beauty Shock after.” 

There’s a different pain in Nayeon’s chest now. Not just hunger. She bumps her nose against Mina’s neck and slowly, carefully laves her tongue across the original bite mark. She hums and dips again, just one more. Just enough to get past the acidic taste of another vampire, to get down to the root of the—

“Unnie.” Tzuyu’s fingers tighten around Nayeon’s arm, pleading. “Unnie, stop.” 

Nayeon’s eyes flick up to Mina’s. There’s something there. Something she would need another lifetime to understand. The blood sours in her mouth. She lifts up from the girl and lets out a breath she has been holding for one hundred years. 

“Type A.”

^^^

Nayeon paces in Jeongyeon’s kitchen, squeezing a stress ball she found in the junk drawer. It had only taken five minutes to snoop through all the cabinets, the refrigerator, and the trash can, and now all she has to focus on is the lack of sound coming from the living room. 

Tzuyu and Dahyun keep tracking her with their eyes. They’re leaned on either side of the door jamb like they’re guarding her. Like she didn’t have total control just now. 

“So,” Dahyun says brightly. She’s good at dressing up awkwardness even if she can’t alleviate it. “The doctor.”

“I need a drink,” Nayeon sighs. 

Before her perfect roommate, Nayeon had lived with Dahyun and Tzuyu. It had all been okay enough, but when they started to date everything felt a little awkward. It wasn’t anyone’s fault— there were just certain uncomfortable things attached to having an especially good sense of hearing— but it was times like these, when Tzuyu is fishing through the blood bags in the living room and bringing one back, simple and red in her hand as an apple— it’s times like these that Nayeon really misses living with people who understand her. 

“Thanks,” she remembers to mumble after she’s gulped down half the bag. 

“Do you feel better?”

“I never felt bad.” 

“Well you looked...” Tzuyu’s voice trails off softly. 

“You look better,” Dahyun asserts.

“Uh-huh.” Nayeon takes another sip to comfort herself. 

“You have to know this has Sana written all over it,” Tzuyu sighs. 

“Can’t I have, like, a minute to celebrate.” 

Sana is Nayeon’s biggest mistake. She had been about half a century younger, dumb, in love or whatever. She thought she’d turn Sana and then they’d live in deathless harmony until humans went extinct and the Earth healed itself around them. 

But Sana went a little, well— the polite term is feral. 

“We need to—”

“ _I_ need to do something about it,” Nayoen huffs. 

It’s always been an awkward point of contention. Sana is a problem, but Nayeon can’t help a little possessive streak. She’d rather not have Dahyun and Tzuyu sneaking into _her_ old mansion in the middle of the day, throwing open curtains and firing crossbows down the hallways. The only thing to do is rip her head off, and as frustrated as Nayeon gets with her ex-girlfriend’s diet, as morally reprehensible as it all is, there remains the fact that Nayeon feels a certain—

“We don’t even know if it’s her,” Tzuyu says, which is supposed to be comforting. 

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

^^^

Jeongyeon comes in twenty minutes later with streaks of blood running down her pajamas. “She’s stable.”

Nayeon sinks onto the floor, all the anxiety static finally dissipating. 

“So...I think this party is over,” Jeongyeon says, looking pointedly at Tzuyu and Chaeyoung. “Meaning, uh. Get out. Please?” 

Nayeon doesn’t budge, and it’s clear the doctor didn’t expect her to. They sit in silence for a few minutes as the others shuffle out. 

“Thank you, for, well—”

“You don’t have to—”

“I need—”

“Let’s just—”

“Oh my god,” Nayeon laughs, relieved. Relieved because Mina is okay, and because she’s not a monster, and because Jeongyeon seems as averse to having a genuine late-night heart-to-heart as she does. Jeongyeon laughs too. 

“You’ll take the floor?” 

“Sure.” 

They work together to get Mina’s shoes off and tuck her in under a heavy quilt on the couch, then drift aimlessly around the apartment for a few minutes, the restless energy not wearing off. 

“So...how do you know those kids?”

“They’re not kids, first off,” Nayeon whispers, mindful of Mina’s light snores. “They’re actually...don’t laugh...vampire hunters.”

“I’m too tired to laugh. Also that’s not funny.” 

“You’re not shocked? Intrigued? Mystified?” 

“Just tell the story.” 

“Not all vampires get along, so—”

“But you’re so charming,” Jeongyeon grins. 

“Anyways. Maybe I helped them out with a few hunts. Call in not-so-anonymous tips. Good citizen type of stuff.”

Jeongyeon laughs wholeheartedly. “You’re really so bad at being a vampire.” 

“Do you think you’d be better?” Nayeon can’t help the little prickle of honest anger. While she’s always felt comforted by Jeongyeon’s casual acceptance of the facts of Nayeon’s life, sometimes it seems like it’s a bit of a joke to her. Maybe that’s fair. Maybe it is all just one humiliating crapshoot of a—

“No.” Jeongyeon fishes an extra blanket out of a hamper, laying it carefully over Mina. “No, I think you’re probably the best anyone could be at it.” 

Nayeon doesn’t know what to say to that. How Jeongyeon can oscillate between ironic and sincere is dizzying. All she can do is look at her friend, try to really look at her. The messy hair pulled up in a haphazard bun. The tired, bruised look in her eyes. A thumbprint of blood pressed to her cheek. 

“We should go to bed.” 

Nayeon nods and goes to sit on the floor, perpendicular to Mina. 

“You’re going to watch her all night?”

Nayeon hugs her knees to her chest. “I’ll have to leave before sunrise.” 

“Okay,” Jeongyeon yawns. “I’ll take her home.”

^^^

Nayeon may have not anticipated the awkwardness of sitting in someone else’s apartment and watching a stranger sleep for four straight hours. She’s turned the TV on a couple times, but the light seems too loud and the volume is too bright even as she cranks it down in steep sonic cliffs. So she sits in darkness and silence. 

But it’s not really all that quiet. It’s not all that dark. 

Vampires evolve in a different way from humans. It’s not millions of years of natural selection that is suddenly curved by cities and science. In a way, being a vampire is like reversing that beautiful Rube Goldberg of mistakes that make any animal clumsily thrive. 

Vampires don’t have that chance, to change and learn and inch by inch modulate the things that make them so ancient. She’s a thing that is most fit for hiding in the woods, hunting with its hands and teeth. 

A lot of idiot vampires die because they think they’ve become more powerful than their old, human selves. The speed and strength is just there to supplement the handicap of such a strict, risky diet; the insane sensitivity to sunlight. She’s more likely to be prey than predator in this world. 

It takes a lot to kill a human; a swarm of bullets, a perfect incision to an artery, a disease that conspires for centuries to learn how to fell them. But a vampire just needs a crude stake to the chest and it’s all over. 

Even with a full stomach, even with her eyes that need not even a pinprick of light to see every contour of Mina’s face, even with her hearing trained to the heartbeat in the girl’s chest, each pulse is saying ‘take more, take more.’

At 5am, just before the sun can start to dust against the horizon, Nayeon leaves.

^^^

Nayeon and Sana hadn’t been married, but they treated their break-up much like a divorce. 

Sana got the mansion. 

Nayeon got the bank account. 

Everything maybe would have been a little less bad if it was switched around. With money Sana probably would have moved to a different city and been a serial killer there instead. Which would still suck, but not fall into the realm of being Nayeon’s responsibility. 

As it stands, she is on the doorstep of the mansion, trying to decide whether she should ring the doorbell or knock. 

Knocking is less obtrusive, really, less loud, but a doorbell is there for a reason and if Sana didn’t want— 

Of course the door just swings open. 

Sana is in a fluffy bathrobe, leaned against the jamb, hair rolled up in a towel. 

Probably to wash off all the blood and, Nayeon hopes, guilt. 

“Well aren’t you a sight for—”

“Save it.” Nayeon brushes past her, through the foyer to the parlor room where she collapses on one of the chaises that are frankly impractical but perfect for Sana’s whole schtick. “I’m mad at you.” 

“Well, pumpkin, you’ll have to be a little more specific.” Sana situates herself in one of the armchairs, tucking her bare legs under herself. “I’ve been doing terrible things.” 

“You _have_.” 

Sana sighs. “I take it you didn’t like your little present.” 

This had been one of Sana’s earliest habits when she was turned— dragging half-drained girls back to the mansion, laying them out in front of Nayeon’s locked door like a stray cat leaves a broken bird. 

It was kind of sweet, in that way Sana would twist a smile in her teeth and it would be fanged and pretty all at the same brilliant moment. 

But also, it’s Mina. 

Nayeon sighs. “Everyone is telling me to decapitate you.”

“Go ahead.” Sana refits the towel over her head, exposing the slope of her neck, the silver-scarred bite mark where Nayeon had sunk her teeth decades ago. 

“You’re such a pain.” 

Sana hums, standing, the towel dipping dangerously down her chest. “She was cute, right?” 

“A little.” Nayeon wills her eyes away from the teardrop of water that’s about to slip over Sana’s collarbone. “Also bleeding, near death, disoriented, confused, panicking—” 

“Panicking?” Sana’s eyebrows quirk up and she almost looks— well, like old Sana. Sana who cared. Sana who squirmed at the thought of hurting anything. 

“Well maybe I was,” Nayeon admits, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“You didn’t drink?” 

“ _No_.” 

Sana taps Nayeon’s ankles, and she lifts her legs up so the other woman can sit on the chaise beside her. 

“I took her to a doctor.”

“Good for you.” Sana’s fingers work over Nayeon’s shoelaces. “Do you want a reward?” 

“ _No_ ,” Nayeon sears. But when Sana’s fingers inch her socks off, she points her toes to make it a little easier. 

“You’re an excellent person.” Sana fumbles with the button on Nayeon’s jeans, which is a farce. She’s dextrous. She’s waiting for Nayeon to lift her hips, to shimmy, and she does.

It’s not a good pattern. 

It’s a way to pass the time.

Which is all that’s left between the two of them. 

“You’re a hero,” Sana muffles against the skin of Nayeon’s stomach, her shirt riding up and up and off. “You dazzle me.” 

“Shut up.” Her whimper cuts the order in half. “I’m still mad at you.” 

Sana blows a raspberry just above her belly button. “Do you want to hurt me?”

“No.” Nayeon unknots the towel, letting it fall and Sana’s still-wet hair tangle over her shoulders. “No, of course not.” 

“She tasted so good,” Sana sighs, because when she knows there’s a splinter she has to pick at it. “Couldn’t keep it to myself.” 

“You have to stop,” Nayeon whispers. 

Sana hooks her fingers around the rim of Nayeon’s jeans, pulling down until they’re around her ankles like cuffs. “How else will I get your attention?” 

“You could be nice.”

“I am nice.” Sana pushes her underwear to the side, which. Well, that is nice. There’s blood and then there’s this— every nerve ending perked as Sana’s hands flutter over the jailhouse grooves of Nayeon’s ribs, that starving thing inside her licking at her insides like a flame and Sana feeding it gasoline-wet kisses. “And I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t—” 

Sana tugs her underwear again, and it hits just right, a nice little taunt— 

“—forgive you—” 

“Okay.” Sana’s eyes are yellow now. Nayeon barely remembers when they were brown and kind and galactic. “Let me touch you anyways.” 

“It doesn’t _work_ Sana.” Nayeon’s hips cant up, seeking any friction against Sana’s skin. “You can’t just— leave me girls and expect me to come crawling—” 

“Of course not,” Sana soothes, leaning up to kiss her neck, coordinating perfectly with the first slip of her fingertips against Nayeon’s thighs. “It would never work, pumpkin.” 

“It wouldn’t,” Nayeon whimpers. “I’m not that dumb.” 

“Of course not.” Sana litters kisses down her chest. “You’ve had a scary night, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah..”

“Just need someone to take care of you,” Sana reasons after a decisive bite through the flimsy fabric of Nayeon’s underwear. “Just need me, right?” 

“A little.”

^^^

Nayeon is accustomed to everyone being disappointed with her. 

Which is why when she rolls over in the big king bed that she and Sana used to share— and are now, technically, sharing— she does not open the texts from Dahyun and Tzuyu. 

She does open Roommate’s: 

_um i hate to ask but_

_is it possible for you to bring home takeout_

_i’ll pay for your’s too_

Sent twenty minutes ago. 

_sorry just saw this now!!!!!_

_what do u want?_

Roommate’s type bubble blooms grey at the bottom of her screen. 

__

__

_whatever’s easiest_

_sorry_

Nayeon rolls her eyes. 

_don’t worry about it!! i’ll be home in like. half an hour?_

Roommate sends a thumbs up. 

____“Hey,” Nayeon announces, shifting so she can poke Sana’s shoulder. “What’s there to eat around here?”_ _ _ _

____Sana pulls the blankets up tighter around herself._ _ _ _

____“Human food. Close. Tell me. Now.”_ _ _ _

____“Google it,” Sana yawns. “Are you leaving?”_ _ _ _

____“Yep,” Nayeon pops._ _ _ _

____Sana has the audacity to pout. She didn’t dry her hair properly, and now it’s sticking up at odd angles and circumstances being different maybe Nayeon would go into the bathroom and find a brush and spend the next hour smoothing through the knots and kissing the back of her neck and forgiving her for everything, but her Sana sobriety starts now._ _ _ _

____“Gimme a kiss first,” the other woman says, angling her cheek up._ _ _ _

____“Nope.” Nayeon snatches a blanket to cover herself. All her clothes are still downstairs. “Also, for the record, this is never happening again.”_ _ _ _

____Sana stretches._ _ _ _

____“Never.”_ _ _ _

______ _ _

^^^

Nayeon picks up some takeout. She asks the guy at the counter what the best thing on the menu is, and he says ‘I wouldn’t eat here’ so she just asks for the most popular thing. She leaves it bundled up outside her Roommate’s door. 

For a second she thinks about knocking. 

There is no doorbell to distract her. 

In the end, she texts _food’s here_ and slinks back to her room.

^^^

“So how’d it go with Sana?” 

Nayeon and Dahyun are sitting on a bench, dull streetlights blinking up and down the mountain path as electricity pops and fizzles weakly along the wires. 

“Well I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“I know there’s a lot of history,” Dahyun says slowly. She’s always cautious when Sana comes up, and Nayeon appreciates the sensitivity as much as it kind of annoys her. “But we need to do _something_.” 

“I can take care of it.” 

“You’ve said that before.” 

“The only option can’t just be to off her,” Nayeon sighs. 

“It’s the simplest.” 

She isn’t exactly right. Maybe in the most removed, technical sense, yes, it’s pretty easy to decapitate someone when you have the exact temperature of rage and power that thrums through Nayeon’s veins in place of blood. But replace ‘someone’ with ‘Sana’ and— no. The easiest thing is not to hurt Sana. Not ever. 

“Well, she didn’t drain the last one, so. That’s progress.” 

“But what about the next one? And the one after that? You can’t keep—” Dahyun shifts uncomfortably. Her voice is too soft for an argument, but Nayeon knows they’re inevitably hurtling toward one. “—rewarding her.” 

“Rewarding her? I marched over there and chewed her out for _hours_ , Dahyun.” 

“But you still let her see you. Isn’t that all she wants?” 

It’s Nayeon’s turn to squirm. “Well...I think really she wants us to get back together. Which is of course never ever going to happen.” 

“I mean,” Dahyun slips her glasses off, polishing them against her t-shirt. “Would that be the worst thing? Like, if she’ll stop, maybe..” 

Nayeon scoffs. “So I’m just a sacrificial sex lamb?” 

“Um. I wouldn’t say that.” 

“But that would be what it is.” 

Dahyun leans back, tilting her head up and closing her eyes. “Something needs to change.”

^^^

Nayeon calls Jeongyeon. 

She’s pacing in her apartment, goes to voicemail twice, and keeps trying. 

Finally, Jeongyeon greets her with a long sigh into the phone. 

“You know about, like, ethics, right?” 

Jeongyeon clicks her tongue. “As much as anyone.” 

“Well, medical school. You made that oath. Most people don’t make oaths.” 

“Yes, and I broke it to sell you blood.” 

“To save my life and other people’s lives,” Nayeon dismisses. “Ethics.” 

She can envision Jeongyeon making that little ‘o’ of confused distaste with her mouth. “What’s the dilemma?” 

“Okay, so let’s say there’s a serial killer and the only way to get them to stop is to date them,” Nayeon rushes against the phone. “Do you do it?” 

“Ah, so this is like the whole ‘would you steal bread to support your family’ thing.” 

“I think it’s a little more complicated,” Nayeon defends. 

“Mhmm. You know a serial killer?” 

“My ex-girlfriend.”

“Well...do you still, you know. Have feelings for—” 

“I do not see how that is relevant.” 

“Okay, well.” She can imagine Jeongyeon shifting her weight from side to side, the nervous little wiggle she does when she’s thinking hard. “Obviously it’s _good_ to save people, but is this the _right_ way?”

Nayeon begins to pace in front of her closed curtains. Daylight still pricks at the edges. “Yes, that’s what I’m asking you.” 

“I’m not going to tell you what to do.” 

“ _Why_? This is your one chance.” 

“To be honest,” and Jeongyeon’s voice gets a little softer, a little hesitant. “I sort of thought you had something for that girl.” 

Nayeon sucks in a deep breath. “ _Tzuyu_? God, no—” 

“Mina. That was her name, right?” 

“Oh.” 

“Isn’t that what vampires do? Find a decent-enough-looking human and—”

“She was more than decent-enough-looking.” 

“Well, there you go.” 

It’s weird. Nayeon has never really considered— well, Sana was a disaster. So it’s better not to date. Because if she dates someone she’ll inevitably get that needling, stupid feeling of ‘what if we could be together forever’ which in the hands of a human is a sweet, romantic, impossible concept but for her— she can have that. She can press her teeth a little too hard against an artery and make something that will never die. Something that will live so long it will unlove her. 

So, no, she hasn’t thought about it. Not since Sana. Not ever again. 

“The options on the board are re-date Sana or rip her head off. That’s the entire map.” 

Jeongyeon sighs in defeat. “Okay, well. Just do whatever makes you happy, I guess.”

She had been happy with Sana. Nothing— no murders, no unflattering petnames— had really been able to dampen the fact that Nayeon liked Sana, on the most basic human level, and she would always like her. 

“It will make me miserable,” Nayeon says as she hangs up.

She tosses her phone back to land on her mattress. 

This means Sana won. 

Which is sort of flattering for Nayeon, in a way, to think of herself as the prize. She had changed Sana once— on the molecular level— and now, perhaps, she could change her again. Make her more like what she was before the thirst set in, the survival instinct barely disguised by those batting eyelashes and wandering hands. 

There’s a knock on the door. 

When Nayeon opens it, there’s a collection of dollar bills, all folded up like butterflies. 

The take-out receipt sits in the center like a camilla, ‘thank you’ written across it in thick Sharpie lines.

^^^

This time Nayeon does not knock. 

She does not ring the doorbell. 

It’s her mansion again and Sana is sitting in the parlor room watching cartoons. 

“We’re getting back together,” Nayeon announces. 

She had briefly, on the walk over, calculated the probability that Sana will say no. That Sana will laugh in her face. That Sana will say ‘oh, all this was just a cruel little joke I was playing.’ 

But, of course, that’s too low. 

Sana squints. “Don’t be mean.” 

“I’m not. We’re dating.” 

The characters on screen argue in fluttering Japanese. 

“Just like that?” 

“There are conditions.” 

Sana hums. 

“I thought you’d be more excited.” Nayeon situates herself on one of the armchairs. “Are you in a mood?” 

“No.” Sana pulls a pillow over her chest, knitting her eyebrows and refocusing on the television. 

“You _are_.” Nayeon crosses her legs. “If we were dating, I’d ask what’s wrong.” 

“I could just say it before you—” 

Nayeon slaps her hands over her ears. 

“—fine.” Sana’s lower lip trembles, her eyes threatening tears. “We’re dating.” 

“Perfect. What’s wrong?” 

“I watched a ballerina documentary.” 

This is classic old human Sana. 

Emotionally volatile people are either psychotic or genuine. 

Nayeon isn’t sure which she’d prefer. 

Sana tightens her hold around the pillow. “Do you ever think about what you would be if you weren’t a vampire?” 

The callous, simple answer is ‘dead.’ 

“Well I probably would have had to marry some guy,” Nayeon thinks aloud, “and I don’t know. Have babies.” 

A tear slips down Sana’s cheek. “You would have been a mom…” 

“Well.” Nayeon doesn’t waste too much time thinking about what her human life would have been. Honestly, at the time she was born, she would have had a miserable couple decades and then some disease that humans had since wiped out would have taken her. 

It would be nice, maybe, to be born now. To try again. 

“Did you want to be a ballerina?” 

“No,” Sana sniffles. 

Nayeon kicks her shoes off, sliding onto the chaise to fold herself around Sana. 

On the television, Tokyo is burning. 

“This isn’t going to make you feel better,” Nayeon huffs, reaching around for the remote, but then Sana is gripping her wrist. 

“It’ll be fine,” she murmurs. “Sailor Moon always wins.”

^^^

Nayeon mercifully waits four episodes before she decides to have The Conversation with Sana. The whole ‘you have to stop drinking from people’ conversation. The whole ‘I never stopped loving you but don’t tell anyone that’ conversation. Sana, still sensitive, nods emphatically, holding teary eye contact like a child being scolded. 

“This,” Nayeon says, taking out a blood bag, “is what you’re going to have to get used to.” 

“Can I warm it up?” 

So they fill a pot with water, set it over the stove, watch as bubbles rise to the surface, then slip the plastic bags in. 

“One day you’ll appreciate cold blood,” Nayeon tries. “It’s refreshing.” 

Sana shrugs.

^^^

They settle into bed— their bed— when the sun is rising. 

Nayeon winds herself around Sana, tucking the other woman’s head against her chest. The weight is nice. The familiar slide of skin against skin, except this time—

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” Sana peeks up at her skeptically. 

“Mhmm.” 

A breath against her neck. “So this is real.” 

“Mhmm.” 

Sana’s arms loop around her waist, her cold nose pressing into the crook of Nayeon’s neck. “I always thought we’d be together forever.” 

So forever starts again.

**Author's Note:**

> idk how long this is gonna end up being, at least two more chapters maybe more
> 
> important note:
> 
> i said soccer but that's just bc i didn't want to say football and have people think i meant american football which should be abolished


End file.
